Our third week on the Pamir Highway led us through the famous Wakhan corridor. A historical, remote and beautiful region, with only a river separating Tajikistan from Afghanistan. We passed old ruins, military bases and wheat fields, and everyone we met greeted us with a smile and a heartfelt invitation for chai.

After a week of recuperating from severe food poisoning and exhaustion, it was finally time to leave Khorog. Despite Robins illness we had feasted on all exciting cuisines the university town had to offer. By our normal standards we hadn’t been to impressed by MacDolands, Khorog Fried Chicken, a mediocre Indian restaurant and a simple coffee bar. But for us after a few weeks of deprivation of these luxuries, it all seemed Michelin-worthy. Except for the burger at MacDolands, that one was just as terrible as to be expected.

Whakan mindset

Khorog is also the turn-off for the Wakhan corridor. Our Belgian friend Frederik had departed a few days before us, only to return the same day after a flat. It had him completely loose his motivation to continue. James, who had taken the main road a few days earlier, had also reported that the roads on the M41 were dreamy. We however had our minds set on the Wakhan, so terrible roads or not. We were doing this.

The little topographer

Expecting the worst, we were quite surprised by the quality of the road the first few days. Also the lack of shops wasn’t at all as bad as portrayed. We passed small villages, only with more kilometers in between them as before. Locals still invited us in for tea, and served us entire feasts with fruit, cake and bread and home made kefir. Despite not being able to understand each others language we tried communicating. Once when we told a family we are from the Netherlands, we asked the kid if he knew it. Usually we get an ahaaa, which pretty much always means not a single clue. But this clever kid walked to his big map he had on a wall and pointed at our tiny little country without hesitating. Very impressive!

A stupa and Yamchun Fort

We cycled along wheat fields, where the Pamiris still harvest by hand. A labor-intensive task which seemed to involve half the town. Tucked into the mountainside was an ancient Buddhist stupa, we decided to visit. A small squad of young girls showed us to the ruins. It wasn’t much more than a pile of rocks to be honest, so we hoped for more at the next ruin site we visited.

The Yamchun Fort didn’t disappoint. Most likely because of three armed soldiers setting the tone, exiting the fort after a patrol, just before we entered. The fort is located on the modern-day border between Tajikistan and Afghanistan, overlooking the Wakhan Valley, and large sections of the Afghan Hindu Kush mountains. The fort was build between 300 and 100 BC and we were impressed by its state, given the harsh environment.

Military bases

By now we seemed to pass military bases as frequent as small towns, but we never felt unsafe. The soldiers patrolled the widening river along the border and they greeted us and we greeted them. Before we entered Ishkashim we heard gun shots for the first time. It was broad day light, so it was probably just an exercise, as no one seemed to care.

Bread magic

If you ever pass by Ishkashim, buy bread. Buy heaps of bread. There’s a small bakery where they hand you the big round flat breads straight out of the oven. We had to be careful we didn’t burn our hands. We bought three big ones, and they lasted us for days. And the last piece tasted almost as fresh as it had just been baked. Bread magic. 

Our egg container had also proved to be worth while. We could easily find eggs in every little town, so it was eggs for lunch every day. We must have devoured at least a hundred eggs in this country. 

War zone

After Ishkashim we found a camp site on the bed of the river. We washed in the icy cold water and huddled in the tent after sunset. All of a sudden we noticed a strong flashlight shining in to our camp from the other side of the river. A little later, we could see the flashlight moving from time to time. We could also see bright flashes lighting up the entire sky, but obviously coming from very far away. It was rather eery, not knowing what this was. We knew the situation in Afghanistan had become more unstable, because the Afghan market in Ishkashim had been cancelled earlier that week. We decided to turn down our lights and just go to sleep.

Afghan and Pakistan mountains

The next morning the Wakhan woke up as nothing had happened. Farmers were working on their fields, kids were playing and we were cycling past it all. A few kilometeres after a town called Shitkarv the road also turned shit. The landscape became more arid between towns and it was harder to escape the unforgiving sun and strong winds. There was one particular long gradual climb on a terrible surface, but with an ever rewarding panorama on the Afghan and Pakistan mountains.

The dreadful Khargush pass

Every now and then we meet a (hitch)hiker or other cyclist coming from the other way. They all warn us for the upcoming Khargush pass. They say it will take us at least three days to push our bikes up. Cycling is out of the question, it’s impossible they say. In Langar we stay at a guesthouse with two guys we met in Khorog, Kobe and François. They cycled the Bartang Valley and were on their way back to Dushanbe. We loved Kobe’s story, how he just bought a bike in Kyrgyzstan and hand made panniers from plastic jerrycans.

The Khargush pass kept worrying us and Kobe’s and François’ report about it didn’t calm our nerves. We were both pretty exhausted and were not feeling pushing our bikes for days. So we chickened out, we got a ride instead. It actually turned out great. The views from the car were amazing, we loved just soaking it all in. The car broke down of course, but that only gave us more time to enjoy the scenery. Thirty minutes later we were on our way again, to be dropped off at the highest point of the pass.

Dreamy asphalt

We cycled for about 25 kilometers on the worst road so far and pushed our bikes through deep sand. Not having had to endure the climb of the Khargush we were both having so much fun. We literally bounced on the road, enjoying the washboard way too much. It was hilarious. When the asphalt of the M41 was back in sight, we decided it would be the perfect place to pitch our tent. Dreaming of smooth roads we fell asleep.

Don’t forget to follow us on Instagram!

The stretch between Qal’ai Khumb and Khorog was only 240 kilometers. But with bike issues, military visits and patients along the road it was a very eventful couple of days.

There are a million amazing camp spots on the Pamir, but some days it seemed nearly impossible to find one. We were locked in between the river and the mountains that formed a high wall next to the road. The only flat grassy area was right next to the road, but after clearing some of the dried up cow droppings we made it work.

Wheel of disaster

Happy to be cycling as a group we set off the next morning. Daniel noticed a wobbly wheel, so we stopped to check it out. Thats when disaster struck. He had broken a spoke on his rear wheel, and needed to replace it. Everything that could possibly go wrong happened. His derailleur pad snapped and the cage bent while he was trying to take the cassette off.

We will rock you

We found a small shop where we could borrow some tools. With a lead pipe, our cassette tool and Daniels chain, Robin and Daniel managed to finally get the cassette off to replace the spoke. Of course a big group of local kids (plus one old man) found all of this very interesting. They all wanted to see what these strange people where doing in their little town. Thea was great at distracting them from the guys, by teaching them the We will rock you dance and her signing (not singing), which she does as a profession.

Military camping

With 32 kilometers it was just a short day, but we were rewarded with a great camp spot. Next to the road, down by the river was a flat area with some trees and enough flat grass to pitch our tent.  Across the road was also a military base camp, so before we pitched our tent we checked with them if it was okay. We knocked on the big green door and a small hatch opened. 

In our best Russian (read by saying palatka, tonight, sleep, okay, yes? and putting two thumbs up with a big smile) we explained the situation. Every time the hatch would close and open again with a bigger hat to hear our request. Eventually we figured out it was no problem. We even asked them to charge our power banks and Wahoo’s and that was fine too. 

How we ride

It was a beautiful starry night. Daniel and Thea celebrated their successful bicycle repair with a camp fire. We sat around the fire and talked about how and why we travel. About the choices we make and how they affect us. Should we be hard or easy on ourselves. Fight or bend. Give in or soldier on. Hitch or ride. Amongst many cyclists there is a feeling you should cycle everything. Even the extremely hard or absolutely boring parts that don’t give joy in any way. After all we chose to go bicycle touring right? We even get comments about hitchhiking a 400k desert stretch from strangers on Facebook. ‘Cycle all the way or go backpacking’. 

But why? We are doing this because we are cutting ourselves slack. Not following the typical life path that fits in a consumers market. Yes we went to college and got a job. For us however, the next step wasn’t a mortgage and first a dog, then a baby. We chose to do it in our own way. It isn’t necessary to do difficult things just because it’s in your expected path. You can certainly choose to, but you don’t have to. To each his own.

Fully charged

Thankfully most reactions we get are positive, no matter if we ‘cheat’ sometimes. People are curious about our daily life, always on the road. How we cook and how we sleep. So were the soldiers that came to check up on us, scaring us a bit when they emerged from the smoke from our camp fire holding their big rifles. They too, just wanted to see what we were up to. These weird cyclists next to their base. The next morning they came again, this time with our fully charged devices.

Four becomes five

At our first snack stop, we see a familiair bicycle outside a restaurant. Immediately after we saw the owner, James from the UK. Our other roommate at Green House in Dushanbe. He had set off a few days before us together with Frederik from Belgium. They were quick fast, so we hadn’t expected to see them again. They had both fallen sick and had a few days of recovery in Qal’ai Khumb. James had opted for a fancy hotel and recovered before Fred, so he had continued but only to find himself sick in this little town again. 

Luckily the restaurant owner took care of him and he was just about to get on his way when we cycled along. We loved cycling in a group, so we were happy to add James to our little cycling quartet. Four had now become five.

Popping panniers

Sharing stories distracted us a bit from the terrible road conditions. It kept going up and down all day long and you had to focus on the road to avoid the big rocks. At one point Sabina’s panniers even decided they’d had enough of it and completely gave in. The glued seam had popped open, probably due to all the bouncing and the hot sun melting it. We had just stopped with some overlanders we’d met previously in Green House Dushanbe. With their help we taped them back together, so they would hopefully last until Khorog. 

SIM scam

We all rode at a slightly different pace, but that didn’t matter. We would always wait for each other at the small shops. We had to fill up on water, and of course eat a million Snickers bars and gallons of ice cream. In Rushon we had a special mission. Our SIM cards had stopped working after only ten days, even though the employee had promised us a month. We had tried to address it in Qal’ai Khumb, but they didn’t want to help us and simply closed the store. In Rushon they weren’t of much help either. We agreed with the lady that we would get new SIM cards, but then all of a sudden she wanted us to pay the full amount for a whole month again. 

Stealing SIM cards

After at least forty-five minutes of going back and forth we decided we had enough. As James and Robin where just starting a tea party across the street, we decided to leave with our new SIM cards. The lady said she was calling the police, so that tea party had to be cut short. We cycled out of that town as fast as we could, constantly looking over our shoulders. For obvious reasons the SIM cards where deactivated immediately and the coppers never showed. It was a big waste of time, and of a tea party too.

Khorog in sight

As Khorog was getting closer and closer, the roads where also starting to improve. Just one more night and one more day of riding before we could finally rest. It was much needed, because Robin was feeling worse by the day. Sabina and James insisted on camping on a sand bank, where they’d hoped to find some shelter from the wind. We carried the bikes down and pitched our tents in the sand. The pegs didn’t get any grip in the sand so James’ tent almost ended up in Afghanistan if Robin hadn’t sprinted after it and caught it.

We saw a truck pass by with Frederiks bike on it, so we knew we would see him again in Khorog. One more thing to look forward to. That and coffee of course.

The Pamir Lodge

The last stretch to Khorog we cycled with just the two of us. The road had truly become a road again and we felt like we had cycled back into civilization. We passed the airport with a cow on the landing strip. There are no flights anymore since Aeroflot suspended the flight to Dushanbe in 2017. This was the only route on which Aeroflot paid its pilots danger money.

As we finally cycled into the city we saw Fred. He had just been to the hospital and was given some medicine and they’d ran multiple tests. He was staying at the same hostel we wanted to go. The Pamir Lodge is the place to be for cyclists. We have no idea who came up with this, because it is only reachable by a ridiculously steep road. It felt so mean.

Hospitalized

The Pamir Lodge was a good place to stay and to meet other cyclists. Unfortunately Robin was only feeling worse and after a few days of only getting sicker, Sabina made him go to the hospital. Within ten minutes he was seen by an English speaking doctor and she immediately admitted him to the emergency room. He was completely dehydrated and needed to get fluids asap.

With a bag full of medicine, dietary advice and supplements we were sent on our way the same day. Now it was time to recover and that needed time. The hardest part was after all still to come.

Don’t forget to follow us on Instagram!